


Make me immortal with a kiss

by Nemainofthewater



Category: 17th Century CE RPF, Doctor Faustus - Christopher Marlowe, Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale being oblivious, Crowley commissioning a play to rant about his angel, Crowley is mephistopheles, Don't copy to another site, Footnotes, Gen, Humour, Kit Marlowe is so done, M/M, Swearing, an attempt anyway, demonic deals, or alternately mephistopheles is Crowley's self-insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 07:33:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19421380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemainofthewater/pseuds/Nemainofthewater
Summary: Crowley commissions a play. Christopher 'Kit' Marlowe is So Done. Aziraphale is oblivious.





	Make me immortal with a kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scarhoax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarhoax/gifts).



> The people at fault for this story are:  
> -Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman  
> -Christopher Marlowe  
> -Paul Hilton and Arthur Darvill
> 
> And last but not least, scarhoax. You know what you did.
> 
> Title is from Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe.

“And then he just looks at you!” Crowley gestured widely, his wine spilling out of the goblet and onto Kit’s desk. Kit, unfortunately used to it, merely sighed and moved his completed pages out of danger1, “With those blessed eyes, so innocent and ‘you must be imagining things Crowley, I don’t know what you mean Crowley, whatever are you saying Crowley.”

Crowley scowled and took another long drink of wine: “Feathered bastard2.”

Kit rolled his eyes. When the sombrely-dressed gentleman with the unfortunate beard had come over to him and announced that he was a huge fan of his work, he had been flattered. Mildly alarmed but flattered. When he had further explained that he was a demon on Earth, able to fulfil his every desire for a small, small fee. Well. Kit quite simply hadn’t believed him. Not until the gentleman’s head had quite suddenly transformed into that of a giant snake, and he was left pale and trembling3.

The gentleman had looked pleased: “Still got it,” he had said, adjusting his dark spectacles.

“What,” Kit had croaked out, “What do you want?”

“A mere trifle,” the demon had answered.

Kit had gulped, throat fry and palms sweating.

“…my earthly soul?” he had asked in a whisper.

The demon had looked astounded.

“What?” he’d said, voice rising in astonishment, “Why would I want your soul? I haven’t got much use for it, have I.”

“But you’re a demon,” Kit had replied weakly, only to be rewarded with a look of pure disgust.

“Well, yeah. But that doesn’t mean I want your soul. Soul deliveries mean visits down to Head Office, and frankly I avoid that as much as possible. Terrible working quarters down there, just terrible. I got a commendation for sending down the blueprints, you know. Some of my finest work.”

“If you don’t desire my soul, oh foul demon,” Kit had said, “Then what do you want?”

“Playwrights,” the demon had muttered, “Dramatic bastards every last one of you4. What I desire Kit, I can call you Kit?5, is nothing more than a play.”

“A play?”

“Oh yes. And I’ll make sure it ends up a success, mark my words. People will be performing it hundreds of years from.”

Kit pushed down the instinctive avarice that came from the thought of his work’s immortality6, and instead asked cautiously: “What sort of play?”

  1. Which he had finally learnt to do after Crowley had completely ruined the completed script of _The Maiden’s Play_ after eight torturous weeks of writing
  2. Both Angelic and Demonic wings had feathers, of course, something Crowley conveniently liked to forget whenever he insulted Aziraphale
  3. And with a completely understandable case of ophidiophobia
  4. Kit mentally made a note that either the demon had no concept of Irony or was just had an astonishing lack of self-awareness. Later he would realise that it was both.
  5. No he could not, but that didn’t stop him
  6. A mistake, and one he would come to bitterly regret



#

“No,” Crowley said, “Make him even more of an idiot.”

“There’s no way that is conceivably possible,” Kit said flatly1, “I’ve already got Faustus only offering 24 years of immortality, what more can he do?”

“What about,” Crowley said, leaning forward, “Having someone, Mephistopheles for example, warn him about how bad an idea something is. Repeatedly. Only to have him be ignored at every turn.”

Kit just…he really couldn’t take much more of this. “What has Aziraphale done this time?” he asked resignedly. He didn’t particularly care to know but was cognisant of the fact he was going to be ranted at one way or the other and would rather have the whole thing over with as soon as possible. At least until the next thing the angel did2.

“No,” Crowley said, “I can’t tell you. Celestial secrets and all that.” There was a pause, and Kit waited expectantly. This too was part of the ritual3.

“Although, hypothetically,” Crowley said, “If some idiot thought that giving someone antlers constituted fermenting evil when I expressly told him otherwise-”

  1. Little did he know…
  2. He was perhaps slightly bitter at being woken at 3 in the morning five days running to be bitched at
  3. The unofficial one, that is to say without any of the candles



#

“My Mephistopheles? My Faustus? Laying it on a bit thick there, aren’t you?1What are you trying to get at here?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Kit said, scribbling in extra stage directions that Faustus was to pet Mephistopheles’ hair at least once2, “Just. Setting the scene.”

“The an- I mean Aziraphale doesn’t think about me like _that_ ,” Crowley said, pacing back and forth agitatedly and occasionally running his hands through his hair.

“Oh no, of course not,” Kit replied, quill digging through the parchment as he penned: _why Faustus? Thinkest thou Heaven is such a glorious thing? I tell thee, ‘tis not so fair as thou._

Crowley, reading over his shoulder, abruptly turned a bright shade of red.

It’s the small pleasures, Kit thought viciously.

  1. In fact, if anything Kit was understating it
  2. And probably more if he could get away with it. Maybe a bit of groping?



#

“What happened?” Kit asked, opening the door to find a sodden Crowley, sans spectacles and glowering.

“Some illiterate idiots with a spell book1,” Crowley growled, “Don’t ask.2”

  1. And a terrible grasp of Latin
  2. Although of course this didn’t stop Crowley from telling him all about it when he was slightly less wet



#

“It’s finally complete,” Kit said gratefully. Crowley opened his eyes, and Kit cut him off with a sharp gesture. Over the last few weeks, his fear of the serpent had given way to something like exasperation and pity1. Mostly exasperation.

“I only have to cast it now,” he said, “And what do you know, I have the perfect candidate for my Mephistopheles.”

“Now, hold on a minute-” Crowley said.

“-dressed all in black, a tempter, half in love with his temptee2,” Kit continued, ignoring the choking noises that Crowley was making, “This is what I am using as repayment for the writing of the play.”

“This?” Crowley said, “You have all of Hell’s powers at your fingertips, and you’re throwing it away to force me into your stupid play?”

“Your stupid play too,” Kit said, “And yes I am3. Because I might as well get some amusement out of this. I shall leave a box open for your Aziraphale.”

“Nggg,” said Crowley.

“Rehearsals start next week.”

  1. Seriously, how blind was this angel?
  2. More like completely in love, but Kit didn’t want to scare him off too quickly
  3. Also because he wasn’t an idiot, and knew how badly these deals could go. Case in point, the last few weeks of his life



#

Kit paused. He could recognise the two figures easily enough, although he had never met one of them1. But who else would Crowley be looking at with such exasperated fondness?

“-you were very good of course, dear,” Aziraphale was saying, “And such a good message! That succumbing to the temptations of the devil will only lead to ruin. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“You. Er. You didn’t see any other messages in there?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale blinked at him in confusion2.

“I meant about how no matter the good intentions, a damned soul can never escape the influences of Hell,” Crowley added hastily3.

“Hmm,” Aziraphale said, “Well, we shall agree to disagree. Can I tempt you to a nice meal? To celebrate your splendid performance, of course. The venison at the Blind Pig is rather splendid-4”

Their voices faded as the pair moved away, and Kit groaned. Maybe he really hadn’t made Faustus dumb enough.

  1. Although he had heard literal hours’ worth of stories about him
  2. Oh for fuck’s sake, Kit thought
  3. Damn it, Kit thought, already anticipating the visitor and the 3 hour rant later in the evening
  4. How can an angel be so blind? Kit thought



**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on my Tumblr! I'm under the [same name](https://nemainofthewater.tumblr.com)


End file.
